


Never Let Me Go

by Ariiaddne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Choreographer Ben, Dancer Rey (Star Wars), Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariiaddne/pseuds/Ariiaddne
Summary: “You know what Ben?” Though he hadn’t stopped looking at her, Rey felt the weight of his gaze intensifying as if it were a living thing. “I don’t think you’re as vile as you pretend to be.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First, I hope all of you are doing well in these frankly scary times. Second, this is my first time writing Reylo, and I mostly did it because I had to get this idea out of my head. So yeah, here's that professional ballet AU no one asked for. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, please have in mind that this is really not how a ballet company works, everything's been adapted to suit the story.

The day they met it rained like the world was going to end. Rey looked out of the window of the rehearsal studio at the downpour outside and wondered if she might drown trying to get to the subway. She hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, and could not, for the love of god, catch a cold so early into the season.

Autumn was just beginning and rehearsals for the Fall Gala had already started. That year would feature, as usual, an assortment of excerpts from different classical ballets plus a production of _The Rite of Spring_ by their new resident artist.

Rey didn't yet know what to make of him.

He’d arrived late, followed by a pinched faced assistant and quickly dismissed their ballet mistress, Amilyn, when she’d tried to introduce them to the company, as if manners mattered nothing in his world, as if he was above them. For that alone Rey would have been reticent, but beyond the haughty attitude, it was the way he carried himself that cemented her dislike. He moved like he owned the place. Like he was entitled to their attention. 

He sat on one of the chairs at the front of the studio and watched the rehearsal for a while. His expression suggested he was trying hard not to roll his eyes. Kylo Ren —genius choreographer or not —looked at these people, her friends, who left blood, sweat and tears in the studio every day like he was doing them a favor by merely showing up.

The worst part was that everyone seemed to be at least a little scared of him. Perhaps it was the height, he was quite tall. And it certainly didn’t help that his apparent preferred attire color was black. But Rey would bet it was the stare. Because when he wasn’t looking dismissive, his eyes held an unsettling weight, it felt like he was picking at every little imperfection he could find.

Even Poe, at the piano, seemed a little unsettled, though he hid it well, Rey thought. The only reason she’d noticed in the first place was because he wasn’t looking at Finn, which he had taken to do a lot lately, much to her amusement.

Finn on the other hand, was sticking to the sides of the studio. Rey knew for a fact that he’d been rather excited to get a part in _Rite of Spring_ when Leia first announced that they would be doing it. He’d shown her clips of Kylo Ren’s production at last year’s Bryant Park Ballet festival. To be honest, she’d been rather impressed at the time. The reimagined piece was striking, slightly disturbing, and yet impossible to ignore. She would have liked to see it live, or so she thought.

She spared a glance at the man himself. He was so tall that the chair forced him to fold his legs rather oddly. He was perusing a folder that contained the dancer’s profiles. Occasionally sparing a glance at the rehearsal.

Rey didn’t care for the snobs of the ballet world. She had dealt with enough of them already.

Which was why she listened with no small amount of dread when Amilyn called her name. Rey’d been waiting for her turn by the barre, keeping warm while a pair of principals rehearsed a piece from _Romeo and Juliet’s_ bedroom _pas de deux._

Amilyn had been trying to maintain a conversation with their guests, however one-sided it might be, as they considered who they were going to assign roles to in Kylo Ren’s production. Rey approached carefully. A part of her was curious, but mostly, she was cautious.

The older woman gave the pair a closed lip smile that Rey idetifyied as merely polite, there was a small vein in her temple that seemed to pulse, like a ticking bomb about to explode. The assistant didn’t even look up, he didn’t care. Kylo Ren however, lifted his eyes only briefly to stare at the middle distance and returned to the profiles.

“Come here dear,” Amilyn said, standing up. She placed a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “We were discussing female roles, I think you might be interes—”

“Is she a principal?” Kylo Ren interrupted, his voice was a disinterested rumble when he spoke.

Amilyn’s smile became tighter. “She’s a soloist.”

“I need a principal,” he replied with intonation that suggested barely contained frustration. “Get me someone who can actually dance.”

Rey’s lips parted, for a short moment she was sure she must have misheard. She felt a surge of righteous anger coming up her chest and opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him, but then Amilyn’s hand tightened on her shoulder.

The older woman shook her head, something like a warning in her eyes. The motion caught the choreographer's attention and Kylo Ren looked up. The unnerving weight of his eyes locked on Rey for a moment, a spark of interest swam there until his assistant said something to him and he turned away.

Rey swallowed down her reply at Amilyn’s silent request. 

Outside, the rain poured a little more strongly, making itself heard under the music. Finn, who had watched the encounter from the other side of the studio frowned and mouthed a question as he prepared to go through his combination. Rey closed her eyes and shook her head, she’d tell him later.

She was still fuming —albeit more in control —twenty minutes later when the red haired assistant announced who they’d been seeing for auditions the next day. Then, with a characteristic calmness Amilyn checked the clock and said,

“Alright, let’s go through one last round then before we’re done,” she clasped her hands. “I want to see that piece from _Paquita,_ Rey would you mind?”

That surprised her enough to knock her out of her thoughts for a moment. As a principal, Bazine was supposed to dance that piece, but since she was sick, Rey, as her understudy, had been filling in during rehearsals. What didn’t make any sense was Amilyn asking her to do it now, Rey’d already proven she knew the choreography and could perform rather well.

She met Amilyn’s eyes for a second, there was a sparkling mischief in them. _Oh._

“Sure,” Rey said, getting in position. If her mistress wanted to shut them up, she was more than happy to oblige.

“Mister Dameron if you please,” The woman asked, and Poe, who already knew the music by heart started playing variation number four, from _Paquita._

In hindsight, Rey realized that spite was actually a pretty powerful motivator. 

The music started and she began with the pointe work, she was quick and precise, her steps had the effortless ease that only came with practice, accompanied with the artistic abandon that she allowed herself whenever she nailed a piece to perfection.

Rey slowed down a little, the tiniest bit, on the _pirouettes_ if only so they could appreciate her balance —If she was going to show off, she might as well put some effort in it —and picked up speed right after. She could have sworn she saw Poe grin a little as he followed her with the music, indulging her. Rey went into the _pique_ turns with a smile. And finished with a flourish, her arms arched above her head.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds and opened them to find dark ones watching her. She had Kylo Ren’s undivided attention now, it felt like a living thing. A spark of something unnamed went down her spine, and she pulled her eyes from him.

Amilyn had her complicit smile on. “Lovely,” she said. Someone actually whooped —probably Finn —which made a few people, including Rey chuckle.

She got up, and titled her face towards the ceiling, the rain had lessened a little.

It was almost completely gone by the time she and Finn walked back home.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

In the end, she too was invited to audition for a part in _Rite of Spring._ Or so said the piece of paper on the notice board. 

Rey ignored it. Choosing to have lunch with Leia in her office instead. She was perfectly aware of how petty her behavior seemed but she didn’t care. Plus it wasn’t as if she didn’t already have a part in the upcoming Gala. She was dancing in an excerpt from _La Bayadére,_ and of course, covering for Bazine in case something happened to her. Which seemed unlikely, since Rey had already seen her going up the stairs to class.

Her eyes wandered over the framed posters Leia kept on her walls. Most were from past productions, but among them there were also a few pictures and Rey found herself looking at a younger Leia smiling at something beyond the camera, holding a bouquet in one arm. She, like her brother, had led a promising career in her youth. Unlike her brother though, Leia had stuck with it, eventually becoming artistic director at the American Ballet Theatre. 

Rey didn’t think she had ever admired someone as much as she admired her.

Though it was Maz who’d first introduced her to ballet, Leia had been a constant presence through her training. Even with her busy schedule at the company she had taken the time to coach Rey. For someone who wasn’t used to being anyone’s priority Leia and Maz’s attention had been both a scary and lovely change.

It was them who had eventually arranged for Rey to audition for ABT when she became of age. Even though Leia had assured her that she would have gotten an audition on her own merits when Rey’s insecurities flared up. 

“How are things going with Luke?” Leia asked, bringing Rey back to the present.

“Well,” she said. “He hasn’t shut the door on my face in a while.”

Twice a week Rey had private lessons with Leia’s twin, at the older woman’s request. At first, Rey had been excited, Luke Skywalker had been the most brilliant dancer of his generation right until he decided to step out. To train with him was the opportunity of a lifetime for someone like her. 

But the enchantment had lasted only so far, as Rey quickly realized the man wanted nothing to do with ballet. He now lived like a recluse, in a townhouse that had seen better days.

“That doesn’t sound too promising,” Leia said with a sigh, using her fork to push her salad around the plate. “I really thought this could be a good thing for him. For both of you.”

Unfortunately, Luke didn’t feel the same way. It had taken Rey ages to convince him to teach her. The day she’d finally managed it she’d sat on his porch for hours until he finally took pity on her and opened the door.

He was a strange man, Luke, sometimes bitter, sometimes sad. Rey didn’t know too much about him. She’d heard once that he’d tried to start his own school and failed but no one seemed to know exactly what happened. Except maybe Leia, but Rey wasn’t going to ask her.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Rey said. Luke _was_ an adult after all, even if his house might or might not have a pigeon infestation. He was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Leia gave her a wry smile. “Enough about my brother then,” she began. “Have you met our new resident artist?” She said it in a casual enough voice, but even so Rey caught a sliver of real interest in her tone.

“Unfortunately,” she replied. Stabbing a little falafel ball with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

“Ah,” Leia’s brow furrowed. “That bad?”

Rey shrugged, “I wouldn’t say he’s very popular right now.” The older woman’s gaze softened a tiny bit. Rey didn't think she would have noticed if she hadn’t known her so well by now.

“Well Ben’s never been particularly good with people,” Leia said. 

“Ben?” Rey asked, blinking.

Leia’s eyes crinkled around the corners“That’s his name,” she told her with a studying glance. _Oh,_ of course. Rey had only known him as Kylo Ren, which was how the press referred to him. And how Finn had looked up his choreography on Youtube. What kind of name was Kylo Ren anyway? An artistic one apparently. “But I’m sure his agent prefers it when he uses the fake one.” Leia’s lips became tighter around the edges, “nasty man.”

The familiarity with which she spoke caught Rey’s attention. “Why is he here though? He didn’t seem too thrilled about it yesterday.”

Leia sighed. “It was the Board’s idea,” she explained. “They think his involvement might improve sales.”

Rey nodded absentmindedly, so it was a money matter.

The older woman peered at her. “I suppose you won’t be participating in his production then?” There was an almost disappointed tinge to her expression.

As always, Rey spoke her mind, “I don’t really think he wants me to.” She shrugged.

Leia leaned back on her chair, taking a sip from her mug, salad forgotten, “that’s a pity.”

Rey arched an eyebrow, a sardonic smile playing in her lips. “Is it though?” 

Leia chuckled at that. 

\---

Rehearsal was split into two that afternoon. Those would be performing in _Rite of Spring,_ would be learning the steps in a different studio from the rest.

Amilyn looked thrilled. Finn wasn’t so much, he had been selected to dance among other _corps de ballet_ members, and was heading down to meet them.

“You brought this upon yourself,” Rey mused as they walked together. Him, squeezing the strap of his bag. Her, slipping bobby pins into her bun. “Auditioning and all.”

Finn grunted, “Holdo didn’t give me a chance,” he complained. “She caught me after class and practically walked me there.” He looked positively crushed. “How did you get out of it anyway?”

Rey beamed, “I have my contacts.”

Finn threw her a dirty look. “Some friend you are.” He stopped in front of the door to the studio. Through the window, she could already see Kylo Ren —or was it Ben now? —sitting on the front while his assistant talked to the dancers. “I feel like I’m going into the chamber of horrors or some shit.”

Rey clasped his shoulder, and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “At least you’ll be able to put this on your resume.” She didn’t mean it lightly, torture or not, performing a Kylo Ren piece was good publicity.

“Not worth it,” Finn sighed, and pushed the door open. Stravinsky music filtered into the hallway. She walked on.

\---

Her own rehearsal went as expected. Now that Bazine was back Rey concentrated on the excerpt from _La Bayadère._ They were doing the kingdom of the shades scene. It was an audience favorite, and as such, had had been highly requested for the Gala. The piece was slow, and delicate, and must be performed perfectly, because when a dance was measured even the slightest mistake was telegraphed to the audience.

As a soloist Rey mostly danced alone, but sometimes did it with the _corps_ as well. She had always liked the feeling of camaraderie she got when she danced with the other girls. That sense of “we’re in this together” that they had. 

The truth was that Rey hadn’t been a _corps_ member for long, she was promoted rather quickly once she started with ABT. And though Leia assured her that it was only natural, that she was talented enough to merit such a thing, Rey worried. She worried that it would create friction between her and the others, that it would set her apart. 

She worried even more that such a meteoric rise meant she would soon be promoted to principal, as unlikely as something like that was to happen, Rey didn’t want to be a principal. At least not yet. Not for a while. 

She had cherished her place in the _corps_ because it meant she was part of a group, that she belonged.

“Watch those _bourrés_ ladies,” Amilyn said, pulling Rey from her thoughts. “Mind your lines.” 

Rey’s toes were numb inside her pointe shoes, a drop of sweat was making its way down her temple. She could see another girl’s taunt muscles as she lifted her left leg _._ It was always like this, tension that disguised as graceful poise. And yet, there was an exhilaration within her, a gratification so bright inside her chest at the ability of her body to carry her through the dance, the reassurance that she was strong, capable. 

Finn called it “the dance joy” those brief moments of absolute delight that were strong enough to make her forget how her muscles ached and hurt.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so deep in it she would have noticed they had an audience. He was standing outside the studio and looking in, his black clad figure like an omen. Maybe he’d been walking by? She couldn’t know. Even at a distance she could recognize that his mouth was tense.

Rey couldn’t do anything about it, so she continued dancing, mindful of her steps, but no longer alight with enjoyment. 

“Breathe,” Amilyn said, stepping between some of the girls, her eyes were sharp, tracking everyone’s movements. “Now don’t stop. Focus on the music, work on those arms.”

Rey stole a glance at Kylo Ren, outside. He had his arms crossed over his chest. She tried to ignore him, but she swore she could feel his eyes on her, picking apart her movements. Rey bit the inside of her cheek in annoyance. She turned, in time with the other girls and the music, raising her arms in fourth position, transitioning into first as her leg rose back in an _arabesque_.

Didn’t he have somewhere to be? She did her best to concentrate on Amilyn’s corrections and zone him out. But by the time they were given a short break he was still standing there.

Rey sighed, picking up her water bottle and stepped outside for a moment. She had the funny feeling that he —Kylo Ren? Ben? —wouldn’t go away until he was somehow acknowledged.

He stepped forward as soon as she placed a foot beyond the door. “You didn’t audition,” He said, and Rey couldn’t be sure if that was meant to be a question or a statement.

She shrugged, dodging him on her way to the water dispenser. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be on rehearsal as well?” 

He shook his head, brushing her question aside, “Hux can manage.” She imagined Hux must be his assistant. He frowned and Rey found herself wondering if he was actually looking down at her or if it was just his height that made it look like that. “Why didn’t you come?”

There was a guarded edge to his voice, like he was simultaneously wary of the answer and bewildered at himself by being interested enough to ask.

She answered honestly. “I didn’t want to.”

Some unidentifiable emotion swam in his eyes at that, he pressed his lips together, making his jaw tense. She didn’t think she had offended him, at least no more than he had done her the day before.

“You could have gotten a part,” he insisted, arching an eyebrow at her.

Rey blinked, “I thought those were only for principals,” she echoed him, feeling a wicked kind of satisfaction at the way he narrowed his eyes. He didn’t reply. She tilted her head to the side, replacing the cap on her bottle. “If that’s all, I should go back inside.”

He pursed his lips, scanning her like he was seeing her for the first time. “You know most dancers would be flattered,” he told her.

“Not all of them, apparently,” she replied over her shoulder.

Rey didn’t turn to see his face as she went back to the studio.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time. I'm sorry! I promise I'll make up for it on the next. Also, thank you so much for the nice comments, you guys are the best.

“The guy’s a monster,” said Finn, from his place on the floor where he was laying upon old fabric bolts, while Rose fitted Rey’s shade costume around her, placing a row of little pins where the bodice needed to be adjusted. 

“Maybe,” the short girl said around the handful of pins she was holding in her mouth. “But he’s hot, so it’s forgivable.”

Rey snorted, holding up her arms, feeling rather like a mannequin. “That’s really not a healthy way to approach it,” she said, trying to stay as still as possible, which was something that, despite being a ballet dancer, did not come naturally to her at all.

“I don't know,” Rose said with a wistful sigh. “At least you guys get to see people out there, while I’m stuck here patching old socks.” 

Finn pouted, “how long until you finish your internship?”

“Still a month to go,” she replied, a little smile playing on her lips. Despite her protests, Rey knew that Rose didn’t hate her job, she just didn’t like being alone, or how the senior seamstresses seemed to load her with all the tedious work they didn’t want to do themselves.

“Poor Rose,” Finn mocked her good naturedly, “what can we do to make it better?”

“Start by visiting,” she said, and threw an old pincushion at his head, “and bring news of the outside world.”

Rey chuckled while Finn ducked. “What do you want to know? I mean it’s not like we get out much up there, it’s mostly rehearsal these days,” she said. And it was true, with the Gala only a few days away the entire company was working twice as hard to make sure everything was perfect. It was important to put on a good show, especially at functions like these where the audience was guaranteed to be mostly sponsors.

“What is he like?” Rose asked. “Kylo Ren? Finn’s opinion doesn’t count. He’s biased.”

Rey’s mood soured. “He’s a handful,” she sighed,  _ and I wish I would stop running into him in the hallways,  _ she thought but didn’t add. “Honestly, Finn’s opinion does count, at least he works with him, I’ve only spoken to him once.”

Which was true because after that afternoon a couple weeks prior when he’d come to watch her rehearsal and casually interrogate her, he hadn’t approached Rey again. She was glad, but also a bit puzzled to be honest. 

Especially since Luke found out about the Gala.

Rey’d dropped a comment during their last session at his home. About Kylo Ren’s choreography. Luke’s eyes had snapped at her. An expression she couldn’t name transformed his face.

“You know him?” he asked, his voice both wary and alarmed.

“He’s a resident at ABT,” she’d explained, “the company’s performing his  _ Rite of Spring  _ this season.”

Rey didn’t think she’d even seen Luke as disturbed. Which was enough to distract her from her exercises. He’d jerked his chin up, signalling her to continue while he seemed to mull over the information.

“Leia asked him?” Luke had inquired after a while.

Rey shook her head, sparing him a curious glance. “From what I understand it was the Board’s idea. A publicity stunt or something.”

He’d become thoughtful at that, his eyes had acquired a glassy look.

“Can’t say I don’t understand why,” she’d added between combinations. “He’s good,” Rey shrugged. “Even if he’s a bit of an ass.”

Luke eyed her as if he was watching some terrible car crash take place without the means to stop it. “Better stay away then,” he’d said quietly. “I hear he can be difficult to work with.

Rey didn’t add anything at the time. But on the way home, as she watched the city lights pass by her on the subway, she couldn’t deny that her curiosity had peaked.

“He’s kind of scary,” Finn said, and Rey snapped out of her reverie. “He’s so tall that he has to duck to go through doors and only ever dresses in black.”

Rose rolled her eyes at him and ruffled the costume’s skirt, “you’re making him sound like the boogeyman.”

Rey snorted.

\---

She blamed her own curiosity when she suddenly found herself outside of what she had begun to think as  _ his _ studio, cursing her treacherous feet for bringing her exactly where she had no business being.

Then again, if, in the worst case scenario, he noticed her spying through the window, Rey could always remind herself that it was him that did it first.

They were rehearsing the second part. Two groups of men, like flocks, circled a lone dancer in the middle. The movements were blunt and aggressive at times, and combined with the disquieting music it caught her attention and wouldn’t let go. 

In her mind’s eye, Rey could see how it would look on the day of the Gala, with low lighting and a simple background. She recalled the costumes the dancers wore at the festival last year. Skin tight suits that were flesh-colored and had little marks, like spots on an animal’s skin.

The beginnings of a begrudging smile started pulling the corners of her lips up. Kylo Ren might be an ass, but he knew what he was doing. She almost regretted not having auditioned. Almost.

Finn was there, among the whirlwind, leaping and reaching. His face was a mask of concentration as the assistant —Hux? —watched over them. Kylo Ren was leaning against the mirrored wall, mounting frustration rapidly transforming his face.

Rey watched as he stepped forward. “Sto— Stop!” he exclaimed, towering over the shorter dancers. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he was breathing hard, looking just about to throw a chair out of the window.

One of the dancers, on a surprisingly brave spell, attempted to snap back at him, and Rey watched on with mounting dread as Kylo Ren replied. 

“Oh that tumbling around was meant to be dancing then?” He asked, a savage expression on his face. “How quaint,” he said, voice dripping acid. The boy looked aside, embarrassed. “Once more then, from the beginning. Try not to butcher it this time.”

Then it was Finn of all people, who stepped forward. “Look man, we’ve been at this for ages, maybe if you’d let us have a break we mi—”

Kylo Ren’s eyes zeroed on her friend, and Rey felt an almost irresistible impulse to get inside and step between the two of them. “Oh really?” He mocked him. “You think a break’s gonna better your technique?” 

Finn stood his ground, but she could see him flich, even from a distance.

“Because I’m starting to wonder how the hell you got in the company in the first place.” He smirked cruelly.

There was a moment of silence, and then,

“That’s it,” Finn said, with both anger and a sort of relief in his voice. “I quit. Have fun finding a replacement, you psycho.” He grabbed his bag and walked to the door, and it was then that Kylo Ren’s gaze met Rey’s.

His eyes widened slightly at her. Rey wasn’t sure exactly what her face reflected but she saw some terrible emotion pass over his when he took her in. He made a motion, or something, that had her thinking for a moment that he was going to come over, but he doesn’t. 

And so when Finn reached the door she whispered a quiet  _ let’s get out of here _ in his ear, and took his arm as they walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben's version of The Rite of Spring is meant to be based on Glen Tetley's.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, thank you all for the nice comments, I'm sorry I haven't replied, but I've just been really busy lately :')

Rey had a love-hate relationship with dress rehearsals. On one hand, there was excitement in the air, and she enjoyed watching everyone running around in their costumes. It reminded her of annual  _ Nutcracker  _ performances she participated in when she was a girl.

On the other hand, there was stress.

The entire company had been rehearsing all morning, preparing one last time for the performance that night. After going through the shade’s scene for the hundredth time Rey took to the wings of the theatre, where she could watch the other dancers as she stretched her legs and took off her pointe shoes so she could examine her blisters.

With Rose’s help, she’d removed her costume. One was not supposed to sit on the floor while wearing it, so she was left in a leotard, tights, and a sweatshirt she’d put on to ward off the chilly air. 

She’d finished re-wrapping her toes in medical tape and was putting her shoes back on when a rather large shadow fell over her shoulder. Rey ignored it, having a pretty good idea of who it belonged to.

She’d ran into Kylo Ren when she’d entered the theatre that morning, he’d opened his mouth at the same time as she dodged, taking a wide berth around him.

Though Finn survived their last encounter and had become quite popular around the  _ corps,  _ with the story of his confrontation being passed around like a tale of bravery, Rey was still annoyed.

Having had a rather unusual ballet upbringing, she’d never quite understood the fascination some teachers had with personal, and sometimes, straight up mean corrections. As if being cruel had ever helped someone improve. That being said, she couldn’t understand how anyone, much less a choreographer would treat someone the way Kylo Ren had spoken to Finn only a couple days back.

“Your arms get a bit stiff sometimes during  _ attitudes,”  _ he said, from his place somewhere behind her.

Rey stilled. She kept her eyes on her shoes and did not respond.

Kylo Ren cleared his throat. She closed her eyes for a second. Just how entitled was he really? Her temper got the better of her and she stood in order to face him, but paused again at the sight of him. 

He held a Starbucks tray in one hand, with two cups on it. “Do you drink coffee?” he asked.

Rey had the sudden urge to look for hidden cameras. Surely he wasn’t offering her one, was he? She shook her head. “What do you want?” She asked, torn between bewilderment and annoyance.

He took one of the cups and presented it to her.

“I don’t like coffee,” Rey said, crossing her arms over her chest. He arched a brow, incredulous. “It makes my anxiety flare,” she explained, picking up her bag, and turning, making her way to the back of the theatre.

He shrugged. “Fine then,” he said, and abandoned the tray on a nearby table, as he moved to follow her.

Rey increased her pace, but he had long legs and little problem matching her stride, as he had probably already noticed, judging by the smug look on his face. “Ben, isn’t it?” she asked, and watched his eyes widen a fraction as he nearly stumbled. “Is there something you wanted?”

He recovered in a second, face morphing into a sneering mask. “Yes, obviously,” he replied.

A group of technicians passed before them and Rey waited anxiously for them to move their equipment and clear the way.

“If you’re looking for someone to take out your temper on, I gotta say, I’m not in the mood.” she said. 

He gave her a blank look. Did he not realize what she was referring to?

Rey reminded him, “like you yelled at Finn the other day?”

Understadment flooded his features. “That wasn’t—” he began. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he argued in a voice that was hilarious for how falsely innocent it tried to sound. He was a bad actor.

“Oh, I think you meant it exactly like that.” 

Kylo Ren pressed his lips in a tight line. “Fine, I did,” he admitted, dropping the pretense.

She shook her head, peering at him. “Do you always speak to people like that?.”

“He was butchering it,” he excused bluntly.

Rey marched on towards the door that gave way to the dressing rooms. “So what? You can’t snap at people whenever you fe—”

“You agree then?” he cornered her, figuratively. “That he was butchering it?”

Rey rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you care so much anyway?”

“You were unkind,” she accused, and turned to look him in the eye, even if he was a head taller and she had to look up.

He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Rey scoffed, throwing up her hands. “Exactly.” She was disappointed he didn’t get it, but at the same time, unsurprised. “Are you gonna tell me what you want or not? I have a performance to get ready for.”

The corner of his lips twitched upwards. “Right,  _ Paquita _ wasn’t it?”

Rey stopped outside the dressing room she shared with some of the other soloists. “Nope. That’s Bazine’s part, I’m her understudy,” she corrected him.

Kylo Ren blinked in confusion. “You’re the  _ understudy _ ?” He repeated, incredulous.

Rey groaned, “Yes I am.” Her hand wrapped around the door’s knob. “Will you leave me alone now?” 

He had the audacity to look appalled when she closed the door on his face.

\---

Their performance of  _ La Bayadére  _ passed in a blur. And Rey was glad for the extensive practice she had because it meant the steps were so ingrained in her body that she didn’t miss a beat, even with how distracted she felt when she stepped into the stage. She wanted to shake her head, shake her thoughts loose inside it. She’d been dancing at ABT for years, she was a professional, she shouldn’t lose her cool so easily.

The curtain closed, and when it opened, a few seconds after, she took a bow alongside her fellow dancers. A pleasant smile plastered on her face regardless of her inner turmoil.

“That was lovely,” Finn told her on the wings, as she retrieved her water bottle and took a long sip. Rey stretched her back, a wry smile on her face.

“It was passable at best,” she corrected him, and flinched, thinking of Leia watching the performance from her usual empty balcony.

Finn opened his mouth, and she interrupted him before he could ask any further. “Is Poe coming to the after party?”

Her friend shrugged, but she swore she saw a faint blush on his cheeks even with the dim light and the stage makeup. “I don’t know, maybe.”

She hummed, giving him a teasing look.

“Please don’t start,” Finn said, catching the glint in her eye. She was coming up with a suitable comeback when she caught dark eyes looking at her.  _ Not again, please. _

Kylo Ren was standing near the back, and Rey realized, with a sudden flare of annoyance at herself, that he must have changed his clothes at some point during the afternoon, because he was wearing dark slacks, and a dark shirt under a tuxedo jacket.

Rey felt frustration bubbling up inside her chest at the sight of him.

But his gaze was steady, and Rey refused to shrink from it, turning it into a staring contest instead. At least until she noticed Bazine getting ready. Her  _ Paquita  _ costume was a mix of dark red and cream, Rey wanted to look away from it like it was burning her retina.

Many things happened at once then. Leia appeared from nowhere, followed by a technician. She had her reading glasses on and a copy of the program in her hand.

“Ben, may I speak to you?” She said in a professional voice that was at odds with the tension on her forehead. 

Bazine practiced a  _ pirouette  _ as she warmed up. And he —Ben? —purposely met Rey’s eyes amid the crowd. He started towards Leia. Bazine attempted a  _ piqué  _ turn. And in a move that was graceful in its artlessness he tripped her.

She landed wrong, her ankle twisted under her weight and though amid the commotion several people tried to help her, no one reached her in time. All eyes turned to Rey.

Finn, who looked as disturbed as she herself felt, said, “shit.”

Rey felt numb as people —when had Rose arrived? —helped her out of her shade costume right there in the wings. Ben had disappeared. No one had noticed what he’d done. And Leia, who looked like she’d just avoided one major catastrophe carefully, but quickly, pinned a red rose on the side of Rey’s low bun.

“I’m sorry to say I’ve never been more glad for your presence, dear.” 

Rey’s mind was drifting. She  _ had  _ seen him trip her, hadn’t she? She wasn’t imagining it. She took a steadying breath.

Leia looked up at her. “Now don’t be nervous,” she said, placing both hands on her shoulders. “You’ll do great.”

Rey was herded through the crowd to her place, where she would wait for the cue. The moment she entered the stage, the lights fell on her, brighter and stronger than a tiny sun, making it almost impossible to see the audience. She closed her eyes for a second.

The music started, soft harp picking that gave way to bell-like notes as Rey advanced with a  _ bourrée,  _ and leaped, changing her supporting leg. Enter the violins and she was moving faster. Her pointe work seamlessly turned into  _ pirouettes  _ as the flutes came in. At some point during the dance the pounding in her heart gave way to a familiar rush of excitement, and Rey’s shoulders felt lighter as something close to a smile lit up her face. 

Suddenly she was turning, her own arms carrying her, giving her momentum. The music increased in her ears and swiftly came to a stop as she finished, one knee bent, supporting her, the other one crossed in front and both arms extended above.

A second passed in silence. Then all of a sudden the applause was deafening as she turned her eyes to the audience. The Met was on its feet. 

Her hands trembled ever so gently as she stood. Her lips parted, her fingers touched her chest lightly and Rey remembered, almost belatedly, to take a bow.

As the sound crowded her, Rey’s gaze turned to the side, to the wings, where Kylo Ren was looking at her. There was a brightness to his eyes that she’d never seen before, the beginnings of a grin pulling at his lips as he clapped for her as well.

It snapped her out of her shock. She took one last bow for the audience, and smiled. Then she exited the stage, feeling cold.

He was there, as soon as she came out. Before Leia, before Finn.

“That was—“ he began, shaking his head, which messed his hair. “You should be a principal,” He added more soberly, after a moment. Rey’s eyes were in the middle distance. He inclined his head, searching for her gaze. “This should be you, every night,” he added. “You’re wasting yourself as a soloist _. _ Rey, are you listening?”

She was, but his voice seemed to come from afar. Had he ever said her name before? She wasn’t sure.

“You need a teacher,” he told her.

“I have a teacher,” she responded quietly but firmly, finally coming back to herself.

He frowned. “A better one then,” he said. “I could—“

“No,” Rey interrupted, feeling a dizzying mix of anger and disappointment.

His face fell a bit, but he continued on. He was persistent, she was starting to realize that. “What do you mean?” Her eyes found him at last. The bubbling excitement, the brightness she saw from the stage were now replaced by a puzzling look.

“I’m not gonna work with you,” she explained and watched as he pressed his lips together.

“Why not?” His voice became flat, the usual guarded expression creeping back in.

“Because—“ she exhaled through her nose, trying to put some order to her thoughts. “I can’t believe you just did that, she could have broken her ankle.”

At first there was the same petulant glint to his eye that she was already used to. But then, as he seemed to recognize the seriousness in her tone the smug mask he wore fell away. “I doubt it was anything more than a spra—”

Her eyes widened. “Do you really not understand what you’ve done?” She searched his eyes for a hint of regret, anything.

“Rey…”

She recoiled, putting some distance between them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leia looking at them, an unnamed emotion on her face.

“Rey—”

“Just leave me alone, Ben.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I hear the Gala went well,” Luke said, like an afterthought, while Rey sipped tea in his kitchen.

She perked up in her seat. “You talked to Leia?”

The man eyed her with a gruff expression, and placed that day’s newspaper in front of her. Rey scanned the page, finding a set of pictures from the show. It was a review, he’d read a review.

“Oh,” she sighed.  _ Of course.  _ “You could have come, you know.” Rey tilted her head. “She always leaves a ticket with your name at the entrance.”

Luke looked away, he always got in a mood whenever Rey mentioned Leia. But she was stubborn. She wouldn’t give up hope, that perhaps, if she pestered him enough, he’d finally relent and call his sister. It’d worked to convince him of giving Rey lessons, she couldn’t see why the same logic couldn’t be applied to this as well.

“Stop trying to guilt trip me,” he chided, but despite his words, Rey could see a faint glimmer in his eye.

They fell into companionable silence. The only sound being the gentle shushing sound Luke’s caretaker’s broom made upstairs. An old, yet surprisingly spry woman who came every Saturday to clean up the house. With the white apron she wore it occurred to Rey she looked rather like a nun.

Rey opened her mouth but he was faster. “Maz called today,” he told her. “She’s already tried to rope me into this new production Leia’s planning.” He continued despite her confused expression. “So save it.”

Rey blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Luke shot her a look. 

“I really don’t,” she added defensively. Something about her must have seemed truthful to him because he sighed. “But if Leia thinks it’s important then maybe—”

“Don’t,” Luke warned her.

“I just don’t understand,” Rey began. “You’re so good at this, Leia could really use your help.”

“Exactly,” he interrupted, his eyes were hard. “You don’t understand. So let it be.” Rey watched him, stubbornness set on the lines of her face. “I mean it, Rey.”

“Fine,” she relented. For the moment.

Luke examined her with narrowed eyes. “Your technique has improved,” he commented, mostly to change the subject she reasoned. “Have you been putting extra time at the studio?”

“Isn’t that the point?” Rey asked with an amused smile. “To get better?”

Luke arched an eyebrow. “It isn’t if you get injured.”

Her smile fell off her face like someone had poured a bucket over her. Rey liked to consider herself an optimist, but sometimes Luke’s constant moodiness became too much even for her.

“Could be you a little less pessimist? You should be glad I’m training, I’m putting what you’re teaching me to work,” Rey reasoned.

His gaze softened at that. Rey imagined their relationship was akin to a lonely, stubborn rock that was slowly but steadily being chipped at by the sea. With Luke being the rock and herself being the sea, obviously. 

“I just don’t want to see you hurt yourself,” he explained, surprising her. “You’ve got all this enthusiasm, this strength. It can turn on you faster than you think.”

Rey stared. Leave it to Luke to merge what could have been a perfectly caring statement into a warning. 

“I’m careful,” she reassured him. “I wouldn’t— I mean, ballet is the thing I’m good at. Before I had this, I had nothing. I wouldn’t risk this for anything.”

She’d tried her best to explain it, but there was no way to put to words just how much she felt she owed to dancing. It allowed her to be part of something bigger than herself, to belong. The company was like a family to her, albeit a found one. Luke, however, didn’t look reassured.

“Just, take it slow,” he said. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Let it come naturally.”

Rey snorted. “Does anything in ballet come naturally?”

A begrudging smile transformed his face. “You’d be surprised.”

“You’re talking about the naturals,” she protested. “You and Leia don’t count. It’s easy for you. It’s in your blood or something.” 

Luke’s brow furrowed. “Blood has nothing to do with it,” he insisted. “You could have all the best genes in the world, but if you don’t enjoy what you do it shows.” His eyes became a little lost as he spoke, like he was watching a movie play by. “What you have is… hard to find, there’s a joy to your dancing, that’s why it’s so pleasing to watch.”

Rey wondered if his coffee wasn’t laced with something. In her experience Luke wasn’t someone who handed out compliments. And if he did they rarely sounded positive to her ears.

“Are you feeling well today, Master Skywalker?” She joked. He hated when she called him that. “You sound a bit out of character.”

That seemed to return him to his usual animosity. “Alright, break’s over. Back to the studio.”

The studio was actually his parlor, which she’d helped clear of furniture when Luke had finally accepted teaching her. Rey used a wooden chair as a makeshift  _ barre  _ and no mirror, trusting him to make the necessary corrections. It was strange, but she couldn’t deny that she’d improved a lot since she’d started working with him.

She liked that she didn’t need to wear a leotard, or tights, or have her hair in a bun to take class with him. Luke said dancing wasn’t so much about the perfecting of the movements —something Amilyn would have disagreed with —but about the artistry of it. Which always made Rey smile, because despite the gruff, sarcastic exterior she could tell Luke was a romantic at heart.

“I don’t know what Holdo’s been teaching you back at ABT, but you need to make those  _ glissades _ lighter,” he corrected her. “They’re meant to be softer, it should look like you’re being carried. Has anyone ever carried you?” Luke gave an exasperated sigh. “No, try that again.”

Rey complied, face scrunched in concentration.

It took her the rest of their lesson for her to accomplish the combination to his standards but she managed it in the end. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Luke began, rather inconspicuously, when Rey was throwing on her coat. “How are things going with Kylo Ren at the company?”

She groaned, looping her scarf around herself up to the ears. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Luke’s face peaked with interest, and... was that concern? “Did he do something?”

Rey peered at him with curiosity. “Do you guys know each other?” she asked in turn, dodging his question. “You and Leia are always so familiar when you talk about him.”

The man looked away suddenly. “We did, once.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. There was a rather large age gap for them to have been friends. Maybe Luke had taught him at some point. Didn’t he use to have a school? What was it, ten years ago?

She opened her mouth to ask, but he was faster. “Give Leia my regards,” he told her, and Rey could see that he was about to close the door on her face.

“You could give them yourself,” she said. “I know she’d love for you to visit.”

He eyed her knowingly. “Not exactly sly, are we?”

Rey grinned. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rejected Ben becomes awkward Ben.

The air was bitingly cold on her hands as Rey pushed the building’s door open while simultaneously cursing herself for leaving her gloves back at the theatre.

Amilyn had been drilling them hard all week with the date to the premiere of their production of _Mayerling_ getting closer and closer. And she still hadn’t quite mastered the bedroom _pas de deux_ which was very frankly, giving her a headache.

The response to her performance on the Gala had been massive, some sponsors had even started pressing Leia to promote Rey to principal dancer. Rey was twenty two, if she was promoted she would become the youngest dancer to have ever been made principal in the history of ABT. Sales would go over the ceiling.

Leia had assured her she would do nothing of the sort until Rey felt ready. But compromises were necessary. 

It was then decided that Rey would star in a short run of their _Mayerling_ production before the company moved to California for the annual _Nutcracker_ performances.

It required her to work harder than she’d ever had before, both with Luke and on her own. These days, Rey wanted nothing more than to go home and collapse into bed as soon as the sun started coming down. But even with her hectic schedule there were some things she couldn’t, wouldn’t, drop.

Like every Thursday, she taught one beginners ballroom class at Maz’s studio for a group that was admittedly mostly senior citizens. It was oddly satisfying, and also a bit of a respite from her usual classical repertoire.

The reception area of the studio was pleasantly warm and mostly empty as Rey shed her coat, which she had thrown over the leotard she’d worn since rehearsal, it was navy blue and had thin straps that criss crossed along her back. The group she taught seemed to enjoy the visual reminder that she was, as Maz put it, a real ballerina.

She produced a long wrap skirt from her bag and was in the process of tying it around herself when she noticed him standing by the door with his hands in his pockets.

Rey stilled, all her senses going into high alert. “Ben?” The name blurted out of her mouth without her quite deciding on it. “What are you doing here?”

The man in question stared at her with his brow furrowed. A puzzled look on his eyes as they darted between her, the coat, and the pair of heeled shoes she held by the strings in one hand.

She stood there for a moment, pressing concerns momentarily forgotten. Rey hadn’t seen him in weeks. Since the Gala, actually.

She’d heard from one of her fellow dancers later, that after the repeated success of his _Rite of Spring_ he’d been offered to participate in a number of festivals. His residency at ABT was, at the moment, in standby. It was for the best, she’d told herself. Rey wanted nothing more than to forget about what he’d said to her in the wings of the theatre.

He cleared his throat and she shook her head, pushing away the memory. He had his coat in his hand, and she wondered if he’d been waiting long before deciding that she shouldn't care.

“You—“ he began, but fell quiet almost instantly. “Maz told me you wanted me to meet you here.”

A couple things crossed her head at that. But mostly, well, Maz. _Maz?_

Rey’s eyebrows arched on her forehead, “You know Maz?”

He pressed his lips together, switching his weight from one foot to the other and in that moment, he looked so wildly different from the version of him Rey had seen till then that it occurred to her he might be someone else entirely. “I take it you didn’t ask her?” He questioned.

“No,” Rey said, wondering what all of this meant. “I didn’t.”

Awkward silence stretched on. After their last conversation on the night of the gala he had pretty much left her alone, like she asked. Of all places she might have imagined meeting Ben again, Maz’s studio wasn’t even on the list. The place where she’d taken class when she was a kid was somewhere that belonged strictly to her childhood. His mere presence there felt oddly surreal.

Not to mention that he apparently knew Maz as well. 

“You dance ballroom?” He asked, with a nod to her shoes, when the silence started stretching too long.

“I teach,” Rey replied with caution. “Some of it at least.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together again, almost like a pout, and looked at the door. “I guess I’ll just—” _make myself scarce,_ was what he meant. She heard his unsaid words in her head with frankly confusing clarity.

Rey studied him, perplexed. In the brief time that she’d known him, if knowing was the right word that is, he’d never looked so out of place.

“Well, um,” she interrupted him, she heard the words coming out of her mouth like she was an expectator in her own body. “I mean, since you already cleared your evening to come, would you mind helping me out?”

Ben watched her with a kind of dazed look in his eyes. “Uh, sure,” he said. “What do you need me to do?”

Too fast, he’d replied too fast. It almost made her regret her next words. Rey tried, honestly, to keep a straight face, but she could feel a bit of a grin pulling up at her lips, “can you dance cha cha?”

\---

If she was completely honest Rey would have to admit she had wanted to pay him back for that time in rehearsal when he’d implied she couldn’t dance. And for what he’d said to Finn. And Bazine, of course.

And she’d gotten that for sure, when class started and she’d told him to find a partner and Ben had looked honestly terrified and so awkward for a second before Marguerite, one of her students and a rather sassy one at that, had extended him a hand and said,

“Come on boy, make my day.”

It was hilarious to watch him, tall and brooding being herded by a silver haired lady, but it only lasted for about five minutes until he relaxed.

And he could, in fact, dance cha cha. Rey was impressed, not that she’d ever admit it.

She counted the steps out loud for the group and made little corrections here and there but found herself watching him now and then. A little bit of incredulity lingering in the back of her mind.

Even in jeans and boots he made a point of landing each step, his arms were perfectly arched, one holding his partner’s hand, the other supporting her back. And well, he could move his hips, that was for sure. Plus he made it look easy, like breathing.

He met her eyes at one point and caught her looking, Rey tilted her head, he arched an eyebrow.

The gentleman she was dancing with gave her a knowing look, “brought a friend today?”

“Not really,” she replied.

“Ah, not friends then?” He asked, and the implication was patent in his voice.

Rey shook her head, a little startled. “Not like that either.” _Not at all._ She explained, fully realizing that she wasn’t making any sense, but with such a level headed look that her companion didn’t ask any further.

She announced a little break soon after and the group dispersed, some going to the water dispenser on the hallway, some staying and chatting with the others. She turned the music down to a pleasant background level and went to find Ben by the window, looking down to the street below.

“I think Marguerite likes you,” she told him, tentatively.

She saw the corners of his mouth tilt upwards slightly before he schooled them down. “Really? Do you think she’ll give me her number?”

Rey snorted, “I think she might.”

He turned to her then and there was the seriousness to his eyes that was familiar to her from the time of his residence at ABT. “How long have you known Maz?” Ben asked.

She tilted her head to the side, “seven years or so,” Rey replied, and motioned with her hand as if to encompass the studio. “We met here actually, she caught me looking through the window at her class and offered to teach me.”

Ben frowned slightly, “we’re on a second floor.” He stated.

It was her turn to arch an eyebrow then, “I know,” she said. “I climbed the firescape so I could look in.”

He was studying her with that unreadable expression of his. “How old were you?” He asked. “When you started dancing.”

Rey felt a mild spike of annoyance at his questioning. But then again, he was entitled like that. “Thirteen.” 

She saw his frown deepen as he took in her answer. “That’s…”

“Old, I know,” she finished. “For ballet.”

They fell silent for a bit after that, with him turning back to the window while a thoughtful look passed over his face. Outside, a few people walked on the street towards the subway. It was already dark, proof that the days became shorter and shorter as winter approached. It gave Rey a funny feeling, like she wanted to be home already, curling up on the couch next to Finn. She craved the safety of their apartment. 

“You’re a good dancer,” Ben admitted in a quiet voice, pulling her from her thoughts. Rey stared. “Really good.”

Rey wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. What would have been a compliment on somebody else’s voice struck her as warped in his. Did he mean it? Or was he toying with her? She knew he could be particularly cruel if he wanted, she’d seen it on rehearsals. 

But still. _You should be a principal._ She remembered all too well how he’d said it, the eagerness. This time it felt different, less hungry.

“How long have _you_ known Maz?” She asked, both actually interested and as a means to change the subject.

He turned, leaning his back against the window now. “Forever,” he replied, and explained further when he took in her disbelieving expression. “She and my mother have been friends since before she became director.”

Rey stilled.

Her eyes snapped back to him. And very suddenly a great many things seemed to fall into place. _Oh._

“You don’t mean—?” Rey began, uncertain, she could be wrong, but somehow she didn’t think she was. “...Leia right?”

Ben arched an eyebrow at her, seemingly confused at her appalled face. “You didn’t know?”

_That Kylo Ren was Leia’s son?_ “No,” Rey said. “I don’t think anyone in the _corps_ knows.” She was sure that if such a thing was public knowledge there would have been at least some amount of gossip. Especially around the time the company was preparing for the Gala. “I had no idea.”

His shoulders took a slightly uncomfortable set. Rey wanted to ask more, she was still bewildered. But time was passing and she had to continue the class. When she looked at him, she thought he looked relieved.

Perhaps it was a sensitive matter? If it was she wouldn’t find out right then.

The second half of the class went normally enough, she was even amused as one of the couples she taught made a show of spinning the other one around with a flourish. But her mind wandered nonetheless, it wouldn’t stop replaying that moment with Leia in her office. _I wouldn’t say he’s very popular right now._ Now that Rey knew Leia was his mother a wave of mortification had her wishing she could go back in time to slap herself in the head.

Of course some other things made a lot more sense now as well. Luke for once. She wondered why he hadn’t told her, he’d definitely had the chance.

When the class was over and people started to leave she caught sight of Ben from her place besides de stereo, Marguerite was speaking to him, gesticulating with her hands. He nodded politely and did not pull away when she clasped one of his hands, even though Rey could see the subtlest of tensions on his brow as it happened.

She puzzled again over what she knew of him as she went around the studio, turning off the lights and returning things to their places. If she hadn’t personally seen him trip Bazine and yell at Finn, she wouldn’t have guessed it. 

He waited by the door as she locked up and went down the stairs with her in silence, all the while keeping a respectful —and perhaps careful? —distance between the two of them.

“Are you taking the subway?” He asked her once they’d reached the street.

Rey shook her head. “No, I live close by.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but closed it before he managed anything, burying his hands deeper in his coat’s pockets. It occurred to Rey that under the streetlights and with his hair ruffled he looked a tiny bit less menacing than he’d appeared before.

“Alright,” he said. And it struck her as funny, that if someone had told her Kylo Ren used the subway like the rest of New York’s peasants she wouldn’t have believed it.

Rey looked at the night sky, by now it was so cold that she could see her breath come out of her mouth in puffs. She hoped it would snow. “You know what Ben?” Though he hadn’t stopped looking at her she felt the weight of his gaze intensifying as if it were a living thing. “I don’t think you’re as vile as you pretend to be.”

She saw the corners of his lips turning up slightly, it made her wonder what a true smile would look like on him.

“ _As_ vile?” he arched a brow at her.

Rey shrugged with one shoulder. “That thing you did to Bazine, it could have been serious.” She didn’t think she needed to explain any further. Injury, for any dancer, was not a matter to take lightly.

His face closed up a little, the tiniest bit. “I know,” he said, like he was trying to channel his personal brand of entitlement, but not quite managing it.

Rey tilted her head, studying him, somehow the lighting made his eyes look clearer. “Do you at least regret it?” She asked, genuinely curious.

The tilt of his mouth became sardonic, “I regret it made you upset.”

_Of course._ She looked away, pressing her lips together hard so they wouldn’t betray any hint of amusement. Rey turned from him, into the direction of her apartment. “Goodnight Ben,” she said over her shoulder, and walked away under the light of the street lamp.

On her way home she thought of telling Finn about the strange turn of her evening, but by the time she got home he was already asleep and she wasn’t sure she wanted to share anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, if any of you are wondering here's the Paquita variation:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGAo0yTgmLo


End file.
